Chapter 237: Projector Selection

Spade Z Hawthorne Headquarters, Briefing Room.

Yelon Merkes glanced at the night sky outside the window, then tapped the NASA logo on the table with his fingertips.

“Three companies, including us, are participating in the Polar Orbiter presentation, right?”

Matthew Halleggan, sitting across from him, turned his laptop around to show Merkes.

Three logos appeared on the gray slide.

“The private airlines participating in the presentation are us, Dojin Frontier, and Armorzon’s ‘Red Origin.’”

At the mention of Red Origin, a brief smirk crossed Merkes’ lips.

“Isn’t it said that Red Origin hasn’t even finished validating the kick stage yet?”

“That’s correct. They’re also lacking in handling thermal and vacuum environments for long-haul flights over eight hours, and it’s unclear if continuous reignition is possible in the TLI (Trans-Lunar Injection) orbit.”

“So, in the end, we only need to worry about Dojin for this presentation.”

Halleggan flipped through the slides.

Dojin Frontier’s Leviathan filled the screen majestically.

“Dojin has successfully completed two LEO (Low Earth Orbit) missions with Leviathan, achieving five reignitions and even recovering the booster. However, the issue is that their success is limited to LEO missions. The TLI and Lunar Orbit Insertion (LOI) required by NASA are entirely different domains.”

“Are you saying Dojin can’t handle this project?”

In response to Merkes’ question, Matthew Halleggan nodded and continued his explanation.

“First, Dojin has no experience controlling the thermal environment and cryogenic boil-off of the second-stage propulsion during long-duration flights. Second, they have no history of operating settling thrusters to stabilize fuel at the bottom in zero gravity. If this isn’t done properly, pump cavitation occurs, ultimately reducing reignition reliability.”

If pump cavitation occurs, bubbles form inside the fuel pump.

There’s a chance the engine might not ignite properly when needed.

“The probe could become a lost soul in space.”

“Correct.”

Halleggan continued.

“And third, there’s the delta-v margin. Dojin doesn’t have a track record of blending GNC (Guidance, Navigation, and Control) and RCS (Reaction Control System) operations above GTO. To achieve an accuracy of ±3 m/s during LOI, a precise system integrating thrust vectoring, tank pressure, and fuel distribution is necessary.”

Merkes curled his lip.

“Creating a kick stage isn’t easy, after all.”

In fact, Spade Z had spent over two years developing the kick stage alone, losing more than ten prototypes in the process.

“They’re going to make it in three months?”

Merkes scoffed.

“Of course, simple assembly might be possible, but demonstrating proper performance is a completely different story.”

Halleggan added confidently.

“It took us dozens of tests to reduce the error margin to ±1.4 m/s. In three months, even meeting the minimum standard of ±3 m/s won’t be easy.”

Merkes leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee.

“With the added ‘justification’ that we should win the contract, there’s no need to hesitate.”

Merkes pushed the tablet on the table with his finger.

The screen displayed neatly organized lists of Senate Appropriations Committee members and Budget Committee aides.

Next to each name were tags like ‘PayBrit,’ ‘Aerospace Sponsor,’ and ‘Supply Chain Issues Interest.’

“Regardless of the presentation, let’s wrap up the persuasion on this side.”

Halleggan nodded.

“The media side is also prepared. Articles will appear in the AIAA monthly magazine, two aerospace publications, and a major broadcast tech show. The tone should be framed as ‘Failure is a Waste of Budget.’”

“Good.”

Merkes set down his coffee cup and said,

“What about the procedure?”

“A white paper will be delivered before NASA holds its ‘Industry Day.’ The goal is to include our set questions in NASA’s official list of Technical Questions and Matters (TQMs).”

In other words, they planned to set the stage with questions favorable to them.

Merkes added his opinion.

“Additionally, emphasizing that Dojin Frontier is a ‘South Korean defense company’ could force NASA to re-examine ITAR (International Traffic in Arms Regulations) and export regulations.”

Merkes trailed off and walked to the window.

The city lights reflected and shimmered on the glass.

……

NASA Washington Headquarters, Conference Room 2.

“I oppose it!”

A cold voice echoed through the conference room.

Albert Barrow, a Senate Budget Committee aerospace subcommittee advisor and a key figure from ‘PayBrit,’ slammed a folder onto the table and continued.

“This project is a critical endeavor that hinges on the credibility of American space exploration. Yet, we’re considering including a South Korean defense company, not even a domestic airline? It’s absurd.”

As Albert’s tone rose,

Reyna Bentley, the NASA Technology Bureau Deputy Assistant Secretary sitting across the room, responded calmly.

“While Dojin’s representative is not American, the company has proven its technological prowess globally by successfully completing two LEO missions. Based on those achievements alone, I believe they are fully qualified to participate in this project.”

Another voice joined the conversation after Reyna.

It was Nick Harmon, a former advisor to the Science and Technology Committee chairman and mediator during the ITAR negotiations with Dojin.

“Dojin formally implemented the civilian satellite technology separation protocol during ITAR approval and certified all reignition performance within MTCR (Missile Technology Control Regime) Level 2 restrictions.”

Albert fired back.

“They may have followed formal procedures, but the political fallout is the issue. If this fails, we’ll be accused of transferring cutting-edge space technology to South Korea.”

A brief silence fell.

Then, someone quietly raised their hand, breaking the silence.

It was Roy McCall, a DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) Space Applications Bureau operational manager and one of the U.S. technical advisors for the Luna Link international joint development project.

“I think we should consider the opposite perspective.”

“Opposite? What do you mean?”

Despite Albert’s annoyed tone, Roy calmly continued.

“Recently, NASA has been conducting most of its major projects exclusively with Spade Z. I believe this is an even greater risk.”

Roy turned toward the center of the conference room.

“Spade Z has received about 43% of NASA’s total budget over the past few years. Even now, we’re spending more time reviewing their lobbyist lists than technical data, aren’t we?”

Murmurs rippled through the conference room.

Some frowned, while others quietly nodded.

Roy didn’t stop.

“Political risks always exist. But if we use political logic to cover technical risks, it signals that NASA is dependent on a specific private company. And how the global media will interpret that signal is something you all understand better than anyone.”

At that moment, a mid-level researcher sitting in the back of the conference room turned on their microphone.

It was Marcia Allen, director of the AIAA (American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics) Satellite Division.

“I’d like to add something.”

She cautiously flipped through her notes and continued.

“This ‘Polar Orbiter’ project isn’t just a transportation mission. It includes high-difficulty technical validations like polar communication relay demonstration and deep space navigation verification. While Spade Z has LOI experience, they lack a track record of antenna blending in polar orbits.”

She paused briefly, then quietly continued.

“In contrast, Dojin, through Luna Link 01, is collaborating with ESA and ISRO to validate this technology in actual orbit. Even part of the U.S. Department of Defense’s ‘Last-Net’ satellite subsystem relies on them.”

“Last-Net?”

Paul Summer, a budget subcommittee aide and ‘Budget Security Subcommittee’ coordinator, stood up, looking startled.

“……Last-Net details should not be discussed in this meeting as they are classified.”

“Oh, really?”

Marcia Allen laughed it off as if unaware.

But it was clearly intentional.

“Regardless, it’s undeniable that even the Department of Defense is already using some of Dojin’s technology.”

Silence fell over the conference room again.

Mikhail Brady, the NASA Budget Bureau Deputy Chief, who hadn’t spoken a word until then, slowly opened his mouth.

“It seems to me…… that many of you here are entangled in various interests. Some with Spade Z, others with Dojin Frontier…… connected through different forms of relationships.”

Soft coughs echoed around the conference room.

Brady took a breath, then continued firmly.

“But this project isn’t a simple budget review. It’s a symbolic mission that will shape America’s deep space exploration strategy for the next decade. Therefore, I believe political or diplomatic considerations should not be involved.”

He tapped the documents in front of him and continued.

“Technical capability, track record, and feasibility. This presentation should be evaluated solely on these three criteria. Who lobbied, which country they’re from…… that doesn’t matter. What truly matters is who can actually succeed. That’s all.”

A DARPA staffer sitting to one side quietly nodded.

Reyna Bentley also silently closed her folder.

Brady concluded with a declaration.

“The contractor for this mission will be decided solely based on the results of the technical presentation. All external factors will be strictly excluded from the evaluation.”

In the resolute tone, only quiet breaths and the rustling of pages could be heard.

No one could refute his words.